Redbud Valley Nature Preserve

A work errand brought me to Northeast Tulsa last week, and used it as an excuse to visit the Redbud Valley Nature Preserve in Catoosa. A stopped train just South of the preserve sent me on a long detour through narrow winding roads more reminiscent of West Virginia than the greater Tulsa area. I finally arrived at the parking area with about 45 minutes until closing time.

I can't believe it took me four years to get there. The place is a little gem, snuggled between a local creek and some bluffs. I followed the trail that skirts the limestone bluffs, sometimes passing underneath sizable overhangs. There are even a few caves, but they have the deeper ones blocked off with bars. I hope to return for a longer visit soon.

Pics taken with my Canon S100.

A change in the light

We are approaching the end of the year, and in most places the running season is winding down (or finished). Many runners take the Holidays off to rest and recover, but for me, it's a completely different story. Late Fall is the time when I invariably recover my love of running. After burning out in the heat of our Midwestern summers, the cooler air easier is to breathe, the woods are more inviting, and the Holidays come with more free time.

But I think the single greatest reason for my annual recovery is the light. With the autumnal equinox, the sunlight changes from an oppressive overlord to gentle companion. The angled light in the winter leaves room for darkness and subtlety, and the beauty of all things becomes more apparent.

This summer, while mild by Oklahoma standards, was the worst mentally for my running. At some point in August, the issue was no longer simply training in the heat. I wasn't able envision myself at the starting line of the Fall races that I had considered earlier in the year. So I stopped preparing, and ran only when I felt like it. In August and September, that was not often.

In October I was running a bit more, and went on a backpacking trip down in the Ouachita Mountains, so I felt conditioned enough to run the Turkey and Taturs 10k on Nov. 2nd. I did better than expected, finishing just under an hour. It was a fun race; I finished third and had to work hard to keep the fourth finisher at bay.

All this to say my mojo is back, and I hope to post here more often with tales adventures in the wild
places.

The Ouachita Mountains in October. Taken with my Canon S100.

Chicago Lakes Trail to Mt. Spaulding

On early Saturday morning, June 28th, I left the suburbs of Denver and drove West to Echo Lake. Echo Lake is near Idaho Springs, on the road up Mt. Evans. My plan was to "run" up the Chicago Lakes trail to Summit Lake at 12,830 feet and turn back.

The forecast was for clear skies all day, but, in typical mountain fashion, it was actually snowing (lightly) when I reached the trailhead at 5 a.m. The clouds soon blew off though, and the rising sun set the sky on fire.

I soon reached what I thought was the first Chicago Lake but found out later to be the Idaho Springs Reservoir. My camera's battery died around here so all of these photos are from the i-phone.

The trail ascended mostly at what trail runners call "douche grade", runnable grade for those well adapted to the altitude. I ran very little of it, saving energy for what I knew was going to be a grueling climb up the headwall of the valley.

In this photo you can see two ridge lines. Mt Evans is in the background and the closer ridge is Mount Spaulding.

Looking back down on the lower Chicago Lake.

It was at the second Chicago Lake that I began to be hounded by bitterly cold winds. I was wearing a cheap pair of thin fleece gloves, not very well suited to this kind of cold, but managed to keep my hands warm inside my jacket pockets.

From the upper Chicago Lake, the trail ascended straight up the headwall up to Summit Lake at the base of Evans. A recent avalanche had obliterated part of the trail here and had me scrambling a bit.

The photo below was taken at the top of that wall, close to summit Lake. This was where I had originally planned to turn around, but, despite the cold, I had that itch to keep going up. I mean, how often am I going have the chance to do something like this again? I wondered if I could make it up Mt. Evans and summit my first 14er. I spoke with a hiker who had come up the same route, familiar with the area. He advised that I hike up to Mt Spaulding (13,480 ft.) first. From there I could take the connecting ridge over to Evans, or simply turn around.

Looking back down from where I had come.

Another view looking down the Chicago Lakes basin. The trailhead is somewhere near the small mountain that rises above where the valley turns to the left. I had come about six miles at this point.

The connecting ridge to Evans

The following pictures were taken just below the top of Spaulding, before my fingers stared to go numb from the cold. As much as I would have liked to hike the connecting ridge over to Evans peak, it was too cold to stay up there a minute longer without more adequate gear. One hiker commented on my wearing running shorts in such cold conditions, but the exposed legs were not a problem at all. A better pair of gloves hat was what I really needed to forge onward toward Mt. Evans.

While I did very little actual running on the way up, it was a blast going back down. Much of the trail below the second Chicago Lake was runnable, and I returned in a third of the time that it took me to go out.

Words and pictures fail to illustrate the beauty of the Colorado high country. I'm still drawing inspiration from my memories of this adventure, and will be for some time.

Red Rocks and Lair O' the Bear

I was in Denver last weekend for work and managed to get into the foothills for some "running" on Friday afternoon. The area had been hit with six inches on the previous night. At first I was resigned to staying low and parked at the nearly empty Red Rocks Park and did the 2 mile loop from the visitor center. The sound crew for the techno band Icelandic was setting up to play that evening (brrrr!), and they were blasting Daft Punk on the speakers. Not exactly what I want to hear while tramping around in a wintery wonderland! I wonder how many people showed up to their concert. Considering their name, maybe playing in the cold is their thing.

After finishing the loop, there was still some time to kill, so I braved the road leading West from Morrison. There is a great little park a few miles up called Lair o the Bear. It has miles of single track, and connects to other trail systems in the area.

There is a trail that slowly climbs up a ridge on the South side of the valley that I followed in until I was high enough to get a view of the nearby town of Evergreen. It is one of those trails, so common to the Western part of our country, climbs gradually but persistently through the use of switchbacks. It was a workout pushing up through the snow, but the reward was running back down at a 8 minute mile pace with little effort. That may sound dangerous, but the trail was already fairly beaten down by fat tire bikes, and my Yaktrax have great traction. Mountain running really is completely different beast than trail running in the Midwest.

Day 5

Oxley Nature Center

Lair o' the Bear Park

Twin Owls Loop

On Sunday, I went with my brother-in-law Sean to Rocky Mountain National Park for an overnight in the Lumpy Ridge area. We thought it would be wise to avoid the high country with all the late season snow. Lumpy Ridge doesn't get much higher than 9,000 feet and yet offers challenging climbs, expansive views of the Divide, and little nuggets of beauty in unexpected places.

The trail out to the campsite:

Aspens are nearly as beautiful in the Spring as they are in the Fall.

Thankfully there was a trail head only a mile away from our site, allowing us to set up camp first, and then explore with lighter day packs. The Rabbit Ears campsite (named for a rock formation that towers behind it) was set apart from the main trail by deep conifer woods and a roaring brook.

Once camp was established, we started hiking the Twin Owls loop, a twelve mile (or so) series of trails that goes around and straight over (twice) the massive granite ridge just to the North of Estes Park.

This family seemed less shy than their cousins on Turkey Mountain.

At one point the trail descends to the valley floor, crosses over onto private property, and meanders through a working cattle ranch.

Big expansive views of the Divide were to be found on many sections of the trail.

 

Snuggled in between giant rock boulders on top of the Eastern end of the ridge is Gem Lake. It lives up to its namesake.

I tried to imagine the first human to ever stumble upon this natural cathedral. What did he (or she) think? Was he too occupied with searching for his dinner or an enemy to take note, or did the power of this place compel him to stop, even for a brief moment, to wonder and marvel at something greater than his own immediate needs?

The shot below was taken at the end of the day, when we were tired and hungry. And yet this was the best part of the loop, in my opinion. The day hikers were gone and we had the trails to ourselves. Shadow blanketed the ridge and the land went still. Deep peace surrounded us as we trudged on, dreaming of pork and beans.

On Monday morning, after a hearty camp breakfast, we hiked a side trail to Bridal Veil Falls.

We were back at the car around noon on Monday, and stopped in at Oskar Blues in Lyons for the recovery. The G'Knight imperial red ale hit the spot, followed by the Siloh, basically a giant pile of meet in a bun. Sean had BBQ pulled pork that probably tasted a bit like heaven. Good beer, good food, good company; a great ending to an awesome trip. With all that vertical I feel a little more confident going into Golden Gate now.

Thanks Sean for an awesome adventure!

Cheers!